Christmas is a time for storytelling, for favorites old and new. Mine is "A Christmas Carol," by Charles Dickens. I love Scrooge. I confess it: I am Scrooge for most of the Christmas season. (Like all women, Scrooge knew what it was like to tumble into bed, exhausted, on Christmas Eve.)

But as much as I "bah, humbug" along in late November and early December, I know that sooner or later, the season will work its redemptive magic. Then faith and love and good cheer will be restored in full.

This year brings a beautiful new edition of 'A Christmas Carol,' by Charles Dickens and illustrated by Australian artist Robert Ingpen (Penguin Young Readers Group, $25), which also includes the Dickens story, "A Christmas Tree."

Here is Scrooge, berating his workers, refusing to make any charitable donations, then heading home to that doorknocker, that fateful meeting with former partner Jacob Marley (those chains, "the chains we forge in life"), then the visits with the ghosts of Christmases past, present and future, and the glorious awakening to a new life.

Ingpen's illustrations are alive with light and shadow. The ghosts seem to float off the page, the candles and Christmas trees glow with rich golden tones, and Scrooge's doleful, then merry, countenance undergoes a real transformation. Rich colors alternate with doleful neutrals to give a strong visual sense of the contrasts of the Victorian era. And those wintry nights and snowfalls are gorgeous, indeed. This will be a family treasure.

Novelist and historian Les Standiford gives us the story behind the story in 'The Man Who Invented Christmas: How Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol Rescued His Career and Revived Our Holiday Spirits' (Crown Books, $19.95). This is a tale that gives hope to all those self-published authors, for Dickens, whose publishers saw no future in this Christmas story, underwrote its publication -- a lavish affair, with illustrations by artist John Leech -- himself.

After an American tour, Dickens' British fortunes were at a low ebb, but he was determined to proceed with his Christmas story. It appeared Dec. 19, 1843, and the rest is history. The first 6,000 copies were gone in a flash, countless editions have appeared since, and the story has been frequently adapted for stage and screen.

Standiford recounts how this one little book had far-reaching effects. Hilariously, it is said that Scrooge's insistence on a holiday turkey sent Great Britain's goose industry into near ruination. However, on the bright side, it led to family celebrations, homes decorated with greenery, charity for the poor. And, as Standiford shrewdly notes, gift-wrapped presents do not appear in the work, for "the most valuable gifts exchanged between its characters are those of love and goodwill."

Ignorance and Want, those poor children, who inspired Dickens, still are with us, however. And Standiford concludes his book on a note that is perfect for the season: "Eliminate ignorance, Dickens dreamed in his 'Carol.' Eliminate want. A tall order then, and a tall order now, but one does not need to be a social scientist to know that he identifies the true sources of misery in this world. And it is a mark of Dickens' genius that we return eagerly to his hopeful vision -- millions of us now -- year after year. And vow to do the best we can."

Of course, many writers have created memorable Christmas tales, and continue to, year after year. In 'Christmas Stories From the South's Best Writers,' edited by Charline R. McCord and Judy H. Tucker (Pelican Publishing, $25.95), with a foreword by Elizabeth Spencer, we get 12 fresh views (several of them specifically post-Katrina) by some wonderful writers.

Robert Olen Butler's "Christmas 1910," from his collection "Wish You Were Here" (stories inspired by vintage postcards), is a wintry tale of a young South Dakota farm girl's encounter with a family visitor, and wondering "how you can be a good daughter in such a cozy pile of kin and still feel so lonely."

Jacqueline F. Wheelock's wonderful "Blue's Holiday" is set in 1966, when a civil rights worker checks into a Gulf Coast motel to find the daughter he's left behind and give her a memorable gift.

In Glen Allison's "The Christmas Monkey," a man and his daughter make the seasonal journey back to his boyhood home in Mississippi. The man thinks, "Everything looks different since the two storms have done their terrible dance across the landscape. But just as the passage of decades have failed to erase my homing beacon to this place, neither has the feminine wrath of those hurricanes altered the terrain so much that I could not find it, no matter how much I might have wished otherwise."

Mark Richard's "The Birds for Christmas" already is a seasonal classic, this mordant tale of abandoned boys in an institution who want nothing more than to see the Alfred Hitchcock film for the holiday. Surely, the night nurse, just once, can let them have what they want.

No matter what your holiday mood -- whether it's wild exuberance or rueful memory or hidden sorrow -- you'll find some glimmer of it in these pages. Most of the stories are set in the South, so there's a sense of wonderful familiarity in reading about a gumbo-tasting Santa, the ever-presence of bourbon and yams and sugared pecans.

Culinary traditions and triumphs are among our most cherished Christmas memories. The late British food writer Elizabeth David's work is celebrated in a lovely little volume, 'Elizabeth David's Christmas,' edited by Jill Norman, foreword by Alice Waters (David R. Godine, $25.95).

David's crisp outlook ("The grisly orgy of pending and cooking and anxiety has to be faced") is full of charm, especially for those faced with the challenges of family entertaining. I might not ever make plum porridge or mincemeat, but I love the mere contemplation of these dishes. Sweet and sour pears, however, definitely will be a new addition to my Christmas repertoire.

Her writing is a model of economy and grace, proof that in writing as in food, simple things are best. And I don't know a single woman who doesn't secretly share David's holiday wish. "If I had my way -- and I shan't -- my Christmas Day eating and drinking would consist of an omelette and cold ham and a nice bottle of wine at lunchtime, and a smoked salmon sandwich with a glass of champagne on a tray in bed in the evening." Christmas bliss, indeed.

As much as we love being at home for Christmas, don't we all, sometimes, wonder about going away, doing something new? That's the appeal of John Baxter's enchanting memoir, 'Immoveable Feast: A Paris Christmas' (HarperPerennial, $13.95).

Baxter, an Australian expatriate, fell in love with a Frenchwoman and the life that came along with her. He opens "Immoveable Feast" with a warning for those who would visit Paris over the holidays, warning of closed shops, empty ATMs, dark restaurants. Christmas, for the French, is a family time, as it should be for all of us.

Baxter takes on the challenge of creating the Christmas feast for the venerable French family that has taken him to heart, and love and tradition shine through in his attention to every detail -- the best oysters, just the right wine, the roast pig (named Pascal, and, as Baxter says, "an apple in his mouth would have been an indignity"), the apple compote, the flaming dessert.

He takes us from perfect moment to perfect moment and leaves us with an appreciation not just for his family, but for the human family, with "the security and comfort of its table and hearth." And isn't that our true heart's desire during this holiday season?

Book editor Susan Larson can be reached at slarson@timespicayune.com or 504.826.3457.